


Another Sacrifice

by peanutpeepz



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Feels, Gen, Ignis whump, Minor Injuries, POV First Person, Post-Altissia (Final Fantasy XV), What-If, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 11:26:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19084075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peanutpeepz/pseuds/peanutpeepz
Summary: Ignis wakes up after the battle in Altissia, badly injured from wielding the ring. He sees, but he does not remember where he is, nor what has happened, nor who he serves.





	Another Sacrifice

**Author's Note:**

> Ignis has no sense of self-preservation, so I wondered"what if the ring took something that actually mattered to him?" And amnesia is a fun trope, so here we are. This isn't anything special. I might decide to write more, but this is a one-shot for now.

Foggy. 

My mind is foggy. 

It’s dense and thick; I can’t think straight. I may as well be crawling through mud, heavy, clinging to my body as I struggle to find a way through it. 

I stumble through the haze, clumsily attempting to grasp awareness. It slips through my fingers again, then again, and then once more. But I do not give up.

Unrelentingly, I continue to push, and finally the murkiness clears enough for me to regain awareness. 

Pain!

There’s pain, my body is burning, throbbing. 

Coursing through me like a storm, ravaging everything in its path, leaving naught but carnage in its wake. It burns, throbs, and stabs- I can’t pin down exactly how to describe it. It simply hurts, and it’s everywhere. 

I begin to regret fighting so hard to get through the fog. 

I groan. 

I realize my eyes are closed. 

Was I asleep?

I can’t remember. 

All I know is that there’s fog and pain. 

I decide to try opening my eyes. 

I’ve had better ideas. 

The curtains in this room are drawn and the lights are off. Everything is covered by shadows of various depth and darkness. 

But it’s not the light that hurts. It’s trying to process that there are things around me. 

A dresser. A night table. A chair or two. 

Registering that these things exist is taking more energy than I have to spare.

It’s too much. I can’t think about this anymore.

I want to go back to sleep.

“Ignis!”

Someone’s voice crashes into my eardrums with the force of a speeding car, stealing from me the sweet allure of rest. I groan again. 

“Hey Gladio, Iggy’s up!” 

A young man crosses into my line of sight. If a simple night table was too much for my mind to bear, a person is something utterly incomprehensible. Moving, breathing, filled with life and presence. Someone else, someone outside of myself, is coexisting with me in the little hazy world I find myself a part of. 

My mind threatens to push me off of a precipice and plunge me back into unconsciousness. I cannot compete with his presence; it far dominates my own. The reasonable part of me tells me I should close my eyes and will him to leave. 

But I don’t want to look away. 

He’s wearing a black vest and has spiky yellow hair. It resembles chocobo feathers. All of his attention is directed at me, scanning me from head to toe. He’s looking at me like I’m on death’s doorstep. 

I certainly feel that way. 

“How ya doing, Iggy? Feeling alright?” 

“Not especially.” I croak out. My throat is rough and dry, desperate for fluids. 

He walks around to the side of my bed. I turn my head to follow him, ignoring the pulse of dizziness that comes with it. He grabs a cup of water, which seems to have been sitting there for an indeterminate amount of time. “Here, try drinking something.” He says in a gentle voice, offering the cup to me. 

With a leaden arm, I take it. 

He helps me sit up enough to drink. What a kind thing to do. 

After a few shallow sips, I hand the cup back to him and study his face. 

His features are delicate, his face is smattered with freckles, and his eyes are bright blue. 

I know him. I know I know him. 

This person is familiar to me. 

No, more than that- he is my friend. 

But what is his name-

“You for real, Prompto? Is he up?”

That’s it. Prompto. 

“Yep! He’s talking and everything- good as new!” 

Overselling my condition, but the cheery attitude warms me nonetheless. 

A second person appears, with shaggy black hair and an open shirt that reveals a highly ornate tattoo painted over a muscled chest. 

He looks worried. 

“Good to have you back, Iggy.” He says, casting a smile my way. Iggy… that’s what Prompto called me. 

I realize that I can’t recall if this is my name or not. 

My heart seizes at this revelation. It constricts tighter when I attempt to scan more of my memory and realize that there are significant gaps within it. 

The more I think about it, they’re more like chasms than gaps. 

A crease forms in the middle of the man’s brow. “Uh, Specs?” 

Obviously that’s a nickname. I look at the man. 

I frantically scramble to put a name to his face. Suddenly, I remember that Prompto called out for a “Gladio” before he came in. 

That must be his name. Gladio. 

“You’re awfully quiet. Everything okay? Do you need some more rest?” 

He and Prompto are looking at me expectantly. They want to do something for me. Help in some way. 

I want them to leave me be, but at the same time, I find myself wanting them to stay by my side. 

Either way, I need to say something. 

With my amnesia being the only immediately pressing issue, I decide to voice my concerns.

“Why did you call me Iggy?”

I immediately wish I hadn’t. 

Prompto and Gladio turn ghostly pale. Prompto’s mouth hangs open while Gladio’s presses into a tight line. 

“Um… what do you mean? We always call you Iggy!” Prompto laughs weakly in an attempt to brush off what I’ve said. Whether it’s to ease himself or me is impossible to tell. 

“I see. A nickname, then?”

Gladio nods. His eyes are locked onto mine. “Yeah, of course. Short for… wait, do you remember your name?” His stare intensifies as he leans over me. His entire body is tense, the muscles in his arms rigid as they support his weight on the bed; he’s making no attempt to mask how desperate he feels. 

Guilt bubbles up as I refrain from saying anything else, lest I alarm them further. I try to figure out if I can answer his question. 

My nickname is Iggy. So my name should have an “Ig” sound somewhere. Is it at the beginning of the name, or the end? The beginning would make the most sense, given the typical structure of nicknames. I mouth the sound several times as I furrow my brow, scouring through as much of the fog plaguing me as I am able.

“Did he… forget his name?” Prompto whispers in a voice half an octave higher than usual.

“Give him a minute. He was in rough shape when we found him.” Gladio murmurs in reply. 

I barely register the conversation between the two of them. I must solve this mystery, because if I don’t, it would be devastating for all three of us. We are obviously close. A loved one being unable to recall who they are would be a horrible experience. I don’t want to inflict that on them. Furthermore, losing my name would mean that I have lost _myself_. None of us could bear that, least of all me. 

Finally, it comes to me with all the shock and force of a lightning bolt.

“Ignis. My name is Ignis Scientia.”

Prompto and Gladio sigh in relief. I join them. Temporary though it was, losing my name was a harrowing experience that I’d much rather not repeat. 

“Okay… okay, good.” Prompto nods his head quickly. “That’s a good sign!” He claps his hands and jumps to his feet. “I’m gonna see if Noct’s up.” 

Gladio grunts his approval and slides back to sit properly by my side. His amber eyes were locked on me the entire time, like I will vanish entirely if he averts his gaze for even a moment. 

No words will come to me. The shock of remembering my name combined with my tenuous connection to reality has stolen them away. 

A beat passes. Then two. 

“I’m not sure what happened back there,” Gladio’s warm baritone breaks the silence. “But something went down with you and Noct at the altar. Besides Leviathan wrecking the city, of course.” 

Altar? What altar? 

And… who is Noct? 

“You up to talking about it?” He’s asking, but he isn’t demanding; I’m free to refuse if I so wish. 

I have no answers for him, only questions. 

But after seeing the results of my last query, I’m too afraid to ask. 

“… I’m… no, not yet.” I shake my head. It seems to clear some of the lingering haze, though it exacerbates my pain. An involuntary hiss escapes through my clenched teeth. 

Gladio pats my shoulder. His touch is gentle, soothing to my aching muscles. “Easy. I didn’t mean to push you. Rest up, got it?”

I hope my small smile of agreement gets across. Judging by how he smiles in return, it seems to have done its job. More secure than I was a few moments ago, I relax back into the soft mattress and close my eyes, coating the world around me in a more manageable darkness. Too much has been thrown at me all at once. I am exhausted, scared, and aching. Nothing will get solved if I do not get proper rest; pushing myself now would only worsen my condition. I place all of my focus on returning to sleep, hoping that when I wake once more, I will be free of the ills that plague me. 

***

A rustle of clothes. The tapping of fingers on a phone’s screen. A brief, low hum.  
Someone is next to me. 

The world is slowly pulling me out of my slumber, and it appears that there is a person here to welcome me back. 

I crack open my eyes, curious as to who this could be. 

It’s a young man with messy black hair hanging heavily over his face. He’s slim in build, but not as slim as Prompto, and is doing something on his phone. He has pulled a chair directly next to my bed; judging by how he’s slouching into it, he’s been there for a while. 

I’ve never seen him before in my life. 

He glances my way, and once he notices me looking at him, he immediately shoves his phone into his pocket and straightens up. His mystical blue eyes are opened as wide as they will go, brimming with a mix of delight and concern. I can’t fathom why. 

“Hey, Iggy.” He must be uncomfortable with worrying; the faint tremble that accompanies the emotion doesn’t sound natural with his voice. “Prompto told me you’d woken up.” 

I hum softly. He wrings his hands, taking a moment to clasp and unclasp his fingers as his lips press together. I give him the time he needs to come up with something to say- it’s not like I have anything better to do. Besides, this stranger spent all of this time waiting for me to wake up; the least I could do is hear him out. 

“Um… how ya feeling?” He winces, like he’s kicking himself for asking. 

“No worse than before.” I reply. He’s very casual, too much to be the stranger I’d assumed he was. However, I do not know him, and of this I am certain. I can’t fathom why he’s speaking in this manner. 

I would be put off if he didn’t seem so… guilty. 

“So, your memory better?” He asks. “Prompto and Gladio said you were having some trouble remembering your name. Do you still know who you are?” 

He knows those two, then. My stranger theory is deteriorating by the second. I take a moment to scour what I can of my mind; it’s still wrapped up in bits of sleep. But my name is still ringing loud and clear. 

“I recall who I am, yes.” 

He doesn’t seem satisfied. He’s avoiding my gaze. “That’s… good.” He mutters. Clearly he wants to know something else, but he isn’t being forthright. Frustration begins to rumble within me. I am not a psychic; I can’t tell what he’s thinking about. 

I start to push myself upright. Immediately he is at my side, attempting to adjust the pillows behind my back. His soft hand touches my shoulder, and I bristle instinctively. I dislike being touched by strangers. 

He immediately draws back as though my body has burned him, holding his hand close to his chest. His mouth is cracked open, his eyes boring into me. 

It’s as though I’ve committed a personal betrayal. 

“Apologies.” I say, though I don’t truly mean it. I pity him, but I have my boundaries, and I wish for them to be respected no matter how ill I may be. 

He doesn’t say anything. He’s still staring. 

My stomach is squirming uncomfortably. 

“Is… something the matter?” I frown. 

“Ignis…” He says, slowly leaning forward to gaze directly into my eyes. It’s the first time we’ve made eye contact, and I have to admit, the first time I’ve gotten a full view of his face. His features are soft and almost catlike, yet there’s something regal about them. If we’re being superficial, then I would go as far as to say that he is beautiful enough to be a model. He bites the edge of his full, pink lip. 

“Do you… know who I am?” 

I pause. 

“No. Should I?” 

Crushed would be too shallow a word to describe how he looked in that moment. So would devastated, anguished, morose, and all the rest. There do not exist any words to properly describe how his jaw went slack, how the gleam of tears immediately welled up in his bulging eyes, how his entire body appeared to crumple in on itself, all strength having evaporated at the sound of my voice. He continues to look at me, searching for any trace of a lie or a cruel joke, but he finds none. 

“… You… You’re lying.” He says regardless. His voice is scarcely more than a whisper. 

I regret all of my negative thoughts towards him in that moment. He appears to be completely broken. But there is nothing I can say or do to fix it. I do not remember him. I do not know if I even should.

If there ever was anything about this young man in me, it was completely, entirely, obliterated. 

Perhaps he’d been transformed into one of the crevasses in my memory. 

I finally shake my head. “I’m afraid not. I have no idea who you are.” It’s best to kill any hopes he may have right away. 

Sadly, he doesn’t accept it. “Bullshit,” he hisses. “I don’t believe that for a second! How could you have just _forgotten_? It’s impossible!” His voice climbs, and he gets closer and closer until the tip of his nose touches mine. 

“What do you want me to say?” I reply. 

He gives an exasperated laugh. “Come on, you know me! We’ve been friends for _years_!” 

“Not that I can recall.” My patience is growing thin.

“No. No, no, no.” His finger waggles as though conducting his own vehement denial. “I know you remember. When did we first meet?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What’s my favorite food?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Cut it out, Ignis!” He slams his hand against the bed. “You’re not fooling me for an instant! Here, I’ll give you an easy one- what’s my _name_?” He snarls with such intensity that spit flies into my face. 

The camel’s back breaks. 

“If I knew, I would tell you so that you would LEAVE.” I hiss. 

For a moment, neither of us say anything. Leaves rustle outside the curtained window. Then he draws back, slowly, to stop himself from falling over. He seems terribly unsteady. The tap of a finger would be enough to knock him to the ground. 

“I… Okay…” He mumbles. “I’m just…” He takes a shaky step back. “Going to… go…” 

He does just that, stumbling oddly as he goes towards the door, missing the handle twice before he grasps it, the metal clattering as he pulls the door open and then shuts it behind him. 

It’s quiet. 

\--

_“Whatever it takes, I will protect him!”_

_That’s what you said._

_You begged us for strength, pleaded for us to lend you our power in order to defend your king._

_We granted your wish._

_Wielding the magic of kings, you fended off the Accursed and saved the life of your charge._

_But you were not of royal blood. As such, a sacrifice must be given in exchange for our power._

_We considered what we should take._

_It was clear that you did not value your life, so that was out of the question._

_You valued nothing else about yourself, either- be it your limbs, your eyes, or your heart._

_This is a sacrifice, after all. What good is taking something that does not matter?_

_That is not a sacrifice. That is merely a cost._

_You were rather difficult to figure out, but it soon became obvious._

_The only thing you value with every fiber of your being is the True King._

_You would do anything for him. Give anything for him._

_He is your god, your idol, your entire reason for living._

_He would be the greatest sacrifice of all._

_What is a Retainer without a King to serve?_

_What are you without him?_

_That is why we purged his existence from your memory._

_All work and all play, all laughter and love, all smiles and tears._

_We took him from you in exchange for the power to protect him._

_A sacrifice that granted you the power to save the King._


End file.
